


Where did our love go?

by fleursowl



Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Like Heavy Angst, M/M, Smut, but a happy ending, im sorry baz i love you, simon is a confused sweetheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleursowl/pseuds/fleursowl
Summary: Simon’s slipping away from Baz, and he doesn’t know why or how to get him back to normal. One morning, Baz discovers Simon’s diary, and everything changes.
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Penelope Bunce/Micah Cordero, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 28
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Editor’s note: the parts in italics are the song lyrics, not Simon/Baz’s thoughts btw! Hope ya’ll enjoy ♥︎

**_Baz_ **

Simon’s been acting weirdly lately. I mean, he was always pretty weird, but recently he’s been… I don’t know. _Super_ weird. He keeps flinching away from my touch, and… I don’t know. He walks into the kitchen, the morning light filtering through his hair and making it shine like copper. “Morning.” I say lightly from the stove where I’m stirring some eggs. He jumps violently, dropping the small book in his hands, and turns around to look at me. “You- you’re here?” he stammers. I try not to feel hurt that his reaction wasn’t more of a _‘Hello, darling! I’m so glad to see you! What a nice surprise!’_ but who am I kidding? Simon Snow will never call me darling. Not at the rate things are going, anyway. “Yeah, Penny called early and asked me to come over. Thought you’d want someone to make you breakfast, seeing as she’s gone out early to see Micah and neither of us trust you with the stove.” I reply, trying for a small joke. He doesn’t smile. In fact, he positively frowns. What am I doing here?

_**Simon** _

What is he doing here? He never comes on Tuesdays.

_**Baz** _

I clear my throat, and turn around, going back to stirring the eggs. Snow doesn't make another attempt at conversation, and if you listen very carefully you can hear my heart breaking. “I’m going to take a nap.” he says, and turns on his heel, walking into the bedroom before I can respond with _but you’ve just woken up._ I’ve finished the eggs and am sitting at the table, pushing the crumbs around with my fork in the vain hope that Snow will come back to the table and we can eat together. Eventually he comes back into the room, and again looks surprised to see me. “You haven’t left?” he asks, and I school my face into an expression that doesn’t show the hurt I feel. “I’m not going to leave you, Simon” I say, hoping that he sees what I really mean. He grunts, and falls onto the sofa. “Don’t you want your breakfast?” I ask, almost desperately. “Not hungry.” Snow answers shortly, and then I know something is very wrong. He’s _never_ not hungry. “Okay.” I say, my voice trembling a little. “I need to go get my jeans from our- _your_ room, I’ve ripped the other ones.” I say abruptly, letting my cutlery clatter to the table in a way that would never be allowed at home- _this used to be home_ \- and make my way into his bedroom. Snow doesn’t even flinch.

_**Simon** _

What’s he doing here? I can hear Soft Cell playing on the radio, and a faint smile comes to my face- they’re one of Baz’s favourites. Then I remember Baz is in my- used to be our- room, and for some reason this sits so wrongly with me I think I might throw up, then I think I might scream that I feel this way. I love Baz, I know I do, so why can’t I act like it?

_**Baz** _

_I’ve got this burning, yearning yearning feeling inside me…_

Well, you’ve got that right, Soft Cell. I recognise the song almost instantly, and I laugh bitterly under my breath at how inappropriately accurate it is right now. I’m just rummaging around in vain in the wardrobe, when something falls and hits my foot, causing me to curse like a Normal. I bend down and pick up a small, dark red little book, worn with age. On the front, are two words scrawled that make my heart stop- _Simon Snow_. A small smile creeps onto my face as I realise what I’m holding in my hands could be Simon’s diary. I flick through, seeing various scribbles about how annoying I am, and a relieved grin spreads across my face- this is the Simon I know. This is the Simon I can deal with. I’ve just flicked to the end, when the final sentence makes my blood run cold. _‘That’s what I’m going to say when I break up with Baz.’_

The book feels heavy in my trembling hands, and drops numbly to the floor, making a loud thudding noise.

_Baby, baby baby, where did our love go?_

“Everything okay in there?” Snow calls, his footsteps nearing the door. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise I should hide the diary, hide that I’ve seen it, but my whole body is numb, like I can’t move, like someone’s cast a _**freeze,** **dirtbag**_! spell on me.

_Oh, don’t you please, don’t you leave me no more..._

Snow is standing in the doorway, and he gasps. “Baz, I-“ he stutters, but I push past him, grab my coat from my chair, and walk out of the apartment.

_**Simon** _

I’ve royally fucked up.

_Baby, baby baby, where did our love go?_


	2. Tainted Love

_Sometimes I feel I’ve got to run away, I’ve got to get away…_

_**Baz** _

Penelope Bunce is a pain in the arse. She’s sitting across my kitchen table nursing a steaming cup of coffee, and giving me her best _I’m concerned about you_ look. 

To be honest, I don’t blame her. I look like a hot mess, minus the hot. I haven’t washed my hair in a week, my skin is paler than chalk, and there are bags as prominent as bruises underneath my eyes.

“Basilton, this is ridiculous,” she says, and I wait for her to expand, but that’s it. Bunce is nothing if not brutally honest. 

_… from the pain, you drive into the heart of me_

“I am aware.” I murmur into my cup of Earl Grey, letting its slightly bitter smell comfort me and hide me from the knife that is Bunce’s personal opinions.

“The thing is,” she sighs, eyeing me cautiously, “I don’t think you are. Simon,” Bunce pretends to not notice when I flinch, “is my best friend, and I know him better than he knows himself.”

“That’s not hard,” I remark dryly, “He doesn’t know himself at all.”

“And I know him better than anyone else.” Bunce sails on past me like I haven’t spoken. A week, maybe a month ago, I would’ve argued with her, would’ve settled down for a debate on who knows Simon better, but the truth is, maybe I don’t know him. If I did, I would’ve seen this coming. But I didn’t. And the worst thing is, I don’t think Bunce saw it coming either. 

_the love we share seems to go nowhere_

_and I’ve lost my light_

_for I toss and turn; I can’t sleep at night_

_**Simon** _

I can tell Penny’s tiptoeing around me, and I know she’s seeing Baz a lot, but I don’t have the energy to care about either of those things. I can’t sleep for missing Baz, for wanting to see his face again, for wanting to hear his snooty voice and surprisingly undignified laugh, for wanting to feel his arms and taste his lips on mine, smell his shampoo wafting through our apartment and the disgusting Earl Grey tea he drinks. 

But when I think about running after him, showing up at his doorstep and begging for him to forgive me, about getting him back- and I _could,_ I know I could and I know exactly how I’d do it- I feel physically sick, like someone’s thrown a bucket of cold water down my back and is simultaneously stirring my stomach with their ladle of doubt. I love Baz, I love him, so why do I feel so physically opposed to being back together with him? Why can’t my body and heart and mind sync up?

I tried explaining this to Penny this morning, and she just gave me a look, and said,

“ _You need to see your therapist again_.”

I didn’t even know she knew I’d stopped going. 

_once I ran to you_

_now I run from you_

_**Baz** _

“Baz, do you really want Simon to come running back?” Penny asks softly, taking my hand. I don’t pull back, shocked at the question.

“Bunce, I thought you were intelligent? OR are you just one of those people who are academically smart but shit at reading and understanding people?” I say, not even meaning to be so crude, I’m so taken aback.

Penny sighs, but doesn’t pull her hand away.

“What I mean is- would you take him back? Your pride has been injured, among other things. Me and you both know you have a hard time forgiving people.”

“Penny, it’s _Simon_.” I reply, “My normal rules on how I conduct myself don’t apply when it comes to him.”

Bunce gives me a gentle smile, finishing her cup of coffee and standing up.

“Well, I think you’ll be fine then,” she says, and leaves. I snort despite myself- one thing she’s picked up from me is dramatic exits. 

_this tainted love you’ve given_

_I gave you all a boy could give you_

_take my tears- and that’s not nearly all_

I still dream of him. He’s with me everywhere- when I wake up, when I make him coffee and then remember he’s not here and I don’t like coffee, remember when I leave the house and turn around waiting for him, then remember he’s not there and _I am alone._ I keep it in all day, all throughout my seminars and lectures, all throughout my studying and essay writing, and then I go to bed and spiral. I cry until my pillow is soaked- _literally_ soaked, I didn’t even know that was a thing outside poetic license- and then I fall asleep. (I’m kidding. I don’t sleep.) Technically I _do_ sleep, but you couldn’t call it rest. I’m plagued by him- by his golden hair and skin and basic, basic blue eyes, the moles all over his soft, warm body, haunted by his rumbling laughter and thick eyebrows and long, blonde eyelashes that you can only really see up close, with his ridiculous love for country music and all things Taylor Swift, with his fondness for baking and strawberries. I’m in deep, but I have been since fourth year. This is just another thing I can _deal_ with. (Except I can’t, because before I didn’t know what it was like to love and lose him, to _be_ loved by him- I didn’t know what I was missing, and now I do.) 

_tainted love, oh, tainted love_

_touch me baby, tainted love_

_touch me baby, tainted love_

The worst nights are when I dream of us together late at night, when we would join together in perfect bliss and harmony. (It definitely wasn’t always like that- Simon had _no_ idea how to have sex when we first got together, but we learnt together day by day, and I eventually got the erotic groping fest I’d always hoped for. And then we rode off into the sunset, and lived happily ever after, until Simon Snow started writing a fucking diary.) 

I don’t want to touch myself, don’t want to be touched by anyone else, don’t want any meaningless sex to distract me, because I know that he would be the sole thought on my mind, like he is with everything else.

Always, always, always on my mind. 

_tainted love, oh, tainted love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me so so long, I've only recently been inspired enough to continue! more regular updates will come, i promise! <3 this is a heavily baz-centric chapter (because it's a heavily baz-centric fic) but i will try to do more of Simon's pov! also another sorry that it's so short, i just had a clear picture in my mind where this should end- the next chapter is much longer and more action-filled  
> love you all and hope everyone's doing okay! kudos and comments appreciated and loved <3


	3. Say hello, wave goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon see each other at a Watford reunion party. Baz’s father comes to visit.

_Standin' at the door_

_Of the Pink Flamingo_

_Crying in the rain_

_**Baz** _

I cannot _believe_ Bunce managed to persuade me to come to this awful club on a ‘fun night out’- I am beginning to suspect illegal magic was used. The club didn’t look any better on the inside than it did on the outside, so after an hour of making painful small talk with everyone at the what’s turned into a Watford reunion party (I blame Dev for being a loud mouth on twitter), I’ve given up hope of intelligent conversation and am stood outside instead, taking slow drags on a cigarette that tastes like shit in the alley by the club. 

Suddenly I see a sight that makes me want to crumple to the ground, cry for a million years and throw up simultaneously.

Simon Snow is wearing a _leather jacket,_ a tight white t-shirt and blue jeans that perfectly- the point is, he looks like he’s stepped right out of Grease and straight onto a dinghy street leading to an even worse club.

And the girl on his arm looks like she belongs in a 70s love film too- _Agatha Wellbelove, what a pleasure to see you again._

Well. I swallow, praying that I’ve remained hidden in the shadows and Simon will just cruise right on past me with his little rebound- _wait_.

A thought hits me like a blow to the chest, and I actually do slowly slide to the floor, not caring about the dirt I'm probably getting on my blazer. 

_Maybe I was the rebound._ It would make sense, wouldn’t it? I was just a distraction, something to pass the time, a little exotic fantasy to play out, while Simon waited for his life to remain stable enough for Wellbelove to take him back, and for the golden couple to reunite. 

_It was a kind of so so love_

_And I'm gonna make sure_

_It doesn't happen again_

_You and I had to be_

_The standing joke of the year_

_You were a run around_

_A lost and found_

_And not for me I feel_

An overwhelming desire to be back in Fi’s flat hits me, and I’m pushing up off the ground when I realise I’ve left my keys inside with Bunce (‘ _for safekeeping,’_ she’d said,’ _so you don;t run off on me_.’)

Maybe if I just sneak in, find Bunce and get out just as fast…

After a while of bouncing from foot to foot deliberating, I eventually scurry inside- _you are Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, you do_ **_not_ ** _scurry-_ I correct myself to my normal glide before anyone sees, and slip in and out of people trying to find Bunce. Finally I see the back of her head, and practically run over, touching her arm. 

“Bunce, I-”

_**Simon** _

Baz walks over as soon as Agatha presses a kiss to my cheek.

 _Fuck,_ he looks good. I’d forgotten how good he looks. He’s got on a dark brown blazer that he’s rolled up the sleeves of so everyone can see his _fucking toned forearms_ , with black trousers and a dark green turtleneck. He stops his sentence midway, his eyes darting between me and Agatha, and I see a flash of the most intense hurt flitter across his face, before his lip curls up, his guard going up with it.

 _Oh fuck, I’ve lost him again,_ I realise, taking a step towards him and shrugging Aggie of.

“Actually Penelope,” Baz says crisply, not taking his eyes off me for a second, “I think I’ll be alright without my keys, I’m sure Fiona’s still awake. Wellbelove.” he nods, and turns on his heel, slipping through the crowd. 

Penelope groans, and Agatha begins to say something, but I’m off running through the crowd _far_ less gracefully after Baz before I can hear what either of them think.

“Baz, wait, I- Baz!” I shout, catching up to him and grabbing his arm.

_Take your hands_

_Off me, please_

_**Baz** _

_His hand is so warm._

_**Simon** _

_His arm is so cold._

_**Baz** _

I’m yanked around and quickly snatch back my arm like I’ve been burnt. 

“Is there a reason you’re chasing me like a lunatic?” I sneer, watching the surprise so clearly displayed on his face. _Ah yes Baz, win him back by being a dick. Worked before, didn’t it?_

“I- there’s nothing between me and Aggie. We’re just friends- kinda always have been, really, and I don’t want you to-” he rambles, and I roll my eyes, cutting him off.

“Snow, it really doesn’t matter to me if you’re with _Aggie_ or not. You dumped me, you’re allowed to date whoever you want. I don’t own you.”

_I don't belong to you, you see_

_Take a look in my face_

_For the last time_

“No- that’s not it, I-” Simon looks up at me, his eyes misting over ( _for fuck’s sake if he starts crying I don’t know_ **_what_ ** _I’m going to do)._ “You called me Simon before.”

“Not anymore.” I whisper, my arms curling around my chest, trying to stop my broken heart from falling out of my chest and rolling onto the ground.

_I never knew you_

_You never knew me_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

When Simon doesn’t respond, I turn away, my eyes on the floor.

“Goodbye, Simon Snow.” I whisper, and begin weaving back through the crowd. I’m disappointed but not surprised when he doesn’t run after me again.

_We tried to make it work_

_You in a cocktail shirt_

_And me in a suit_

_But it just wasn't me_

_You're used to wearing less_

_And now your life's a mess_

I had begun suspecting something was wrong when we went to the Grimm Manor for the first time as a couple. Simon had pulled at his stiff collar all night, his emotions displayed loudly on his face for all to see as per usual. 

_So insecure you seem_

_Well I put up with all the scenes_

_And this is one scene_

_That's going' to be played my way_

I’d eventually lead him around the back to the forest where we’d had our first kiss, in the hopes of inspiring something and getting a chance to talk to Simon alone.

“Hey,” I’d said softly, taking Simon’s hands in mine and looking into his eyes earnestly, “I know this isn’t your scene- it’s not mine either really- but it really means a lot that you agreed to come and make my family happy. Thank you.” I’d murmured, and had brushed his thumb across Simon’s knuckle.

Simon had given me an embarrassed smile and pulled his hands from mine, shoving them in his trouser pockets. 

“It’s okay, I think I made more of a prat of myself than being any actual help, but yeah.” he’d muttered.

“Well, you helped me.” I’d said, taken aback at him brushing me off. Simon shrugged, looking slightly flustered. 

“You don’t need my help.” Simon had replied quietly, and turned away. “Shall we go back up?” he offered before I could reply. 

Stunned, I’d simply replied with a ‘sure’ and that was the end of the conversation.

Simon slept on the couch that night.

_Take your hands_

_Off me, please_

_I don't belong to you, you say_

_And take a look in my face_

_For the last time_

I squeeze my eyes shut in the back of a cab, trying to dispel the look on his face from my mind permanently. I opened my phone to see the time, but all that glared back at me was my lockscreen photo of a selfie of me and Simon in bed on a warm Sunday morning. I gaze at the moles on his cheek and and jaw and neck, at the way his tongue is poked out, at the way his eyes have crinkled up in laughter as I press a kiss on his cheek.

_I never knew you_

_You never knew me_

_Say hello, goodbye_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_**Simon** _

I hardly speak for the rest of the night, the memory of Baz saying goodbye and turning away playing in my mind over and over again, his eyeliner smudged. 

_Under the deep red light_

_I can see the make up sliding down_

I know I _have_ to do something to fix us, but I’m not quite sure what. 

_Well hey there boy_

_You will always make up_

_So take off that_

_Unbecoming frown_

_**Baz** _

“Cheer up, Oscar Wilde.” Fiona calls from the sofa as I slam into the apartment, finding the door unlocked. “Your father’s here.” 

I almost drop my coat, and stand still. 

“Why?” I ask bluntly. 

“Good to see you too, Basil.” my father says, rising from the couch next to Fiona, who is sitting with a half- empty glass of red wine in her hand, and a look on her face that suggests I’m going to need some alcohol too if I’m going to get through this conversation. 

I nod stiffly, my eyes darting from his face to Fiona’s desperately, trying to read on her face the answer to why he’s here. 

“Sit down, son.” he says, patting the armchair. 

_Sit down in my own home? Why, how kind of you Father._ I think bitterly, begrudgingly taking a seat anyway. I can see by the curl of Fiona’s lip out of the corner of my eye that she’s thinking the same thing. 

“I wanted to speak to you about- well, about Simon.” he says hesitantly, looking at Fiona for support and seeing from her raised eyebrow that he is getting none. 

“Me and your mother-”

“You and Daphne.” I correct quietly. He gives me a tired look, and continues.

“She- I- _we_ think that Simon isn’t the best… match for you. We think you’d perhaps suit someone a bit more… of your status.” he finally says. 

_As for me well_

_I'll find someone_

_Who's not going cheap_

_In the sales_

_A nice little housewife_

_Who'll give me a steady life_

_And not keep going off the rails_

I choke, almost unable to believe he’s saying this.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s dumped me, isn’t it? Now I can find a porcelain doll of a wife to hide from the Coven that I’m actually a flaming homosexual, can’t I?” I hiss, and am pleased to see that he almost looks scared. Fiona looks as shocked as him, leaning forwards on the sofa. 

“Snow _dumped_ you?” she says in a tone of disbelief, but leans back once I give her a _we’ll talk about this later_ look. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Father. I’ll call you tomorrow maybe, and we can discuss wedding plans.” I snarl. Finally sensing his unwelcome, he stands up, his hands raised in surrender. 

“I see how it is. I won’t bother you about it anymore.” he says, moving to the door. 

Fiona shakes her head again. “I don’t understand. Pitches don’t get _dumped_.” she mutters.

_Take your hands_

_Off me, please_

_I don't belong to you, you say_

_And take a look in my face_

_For the last time_

Fiona and I watch him open it with hawk eyes, which is why we both stand abruptly when a look of surprise flashes across his face. 

“Mr Grimm?” a small voice from outside the door says. My heart leaps, and I move towards the door. My father gives me one last look, coughs awkwardly, nods goodbye, and disappears out of the door. 

_I never knew you_

_You never knew me_

_Say hello, goodbye_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_Wave goodbye_

I walk slowly to the door, not wanting to awaken myself of this dream I appear to have stepped into, ignoring Fiona’s call after me of ‘ _Who is it?’_

_Say hello and wave goodbye_

_Say hello, wave goodbye_

_Goodbye_

_Say goodbye_

_Say goodbye_

Standing on my door, soaking wet (when did it start to rain? Why is it always raining?) and letting in a gust of wind, is Simon Snow. 

_We were born before the wind_

_Who were we to understand_

_We were born before the wind_

_Say goodbye_

_Through the rain, hail, sleet and snow_

_Say goodbye_

_And I'm trying, trying, trying_

_To say goodbye_

_Say goodbye_

“Hey, Baz.” he says sheepishly, hopping from foot to foot. 

_Say goodbye_

_Say goodbye_

_In the wind and the rain my darling_

_Say goodbye_

_In the wind and the rain my darling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad! again! sorry! but a bit hopeful at the end? anyway this is quite long (i think) so hopefully it keeps you satisfied ♥︎


	4. What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon is at Baz's flat. In his flat. What?

**Chapter 4- What?**

  
_**Baz** _

“Right,” Fi says briskly, pushing herself off the sofa and marching to the door (Simon looks scared). “I’m going to go have a fag and yell at your father.” she nods at me, and our eyes meet for just a moment, and it feels as though I can almost hear the ‘you can do this’ that she’s sending me right now.

_Do you want me to_

_Get down on my knees_

_Beg you, baby, please_

_Cry a million tears_

Once Fi’s left, Simon rubs at his arms nervously, clearing his throat.

“Um- what happened with-with your father?” he stutters, not making eye contact with me. I’m taken aback by his question, but manage to compose myself before his eyes flit up to my face and then back down, scarlet blooming across his cheeks as he takes in my cool expression.

“Oh, you know, the usual- trying to marry me off, dancing around the fact that I’m gay, telling me what a disappointment I would be to my mother.” I sneer, blinking back angry tears with surprise at myself. I don’t cry.

_Do you want me to_

_Call you on the phone_

_Beg you to come home_

Simon lets out a small gasp, and he looks up, maintaining eye contact with me. 

“Oh, Baz, I’m so sorry.” he murmurs, taking a step forward and putting his hand on my arm.

I stare at it, and so does he, and then my brain kicks in.

_Pitches don’t get dumped._

(And if they do, they handle it with dignity and sense, and certainly do _not_ get on their knees and beg Simon Snow to take them back- which I am seconds away from doing.)

I shake his hand off, and the look of hurt that flashes across his face kills me. (Or it would, but I’m already dead).

“‘S fine.” I mutter, ducking my head. “Did you leave something here, or-”

Simon interrupts me by marching forwards, gripping my face in his hands so firmly it almost hurts, and kisses me.

_Think of all the years_

_When I once lived in paradise_

_When the love-light shone in your eyes_

_**Simon** _

I have no clue what the _fuck_ I’m doing. All I know is that when Baz makes a small contented noise, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me closer, I feel like I’ve let out a breath I’ve been holding for too long. There’s a weight lifted off my chest, and I grin into the kiss, feeling ridiculously happy.

And then Baz pulls away.

_Oh baby_

_What can I do when I still love you_

_What can I say when I still want you_

_What can I do_

_What can I say_

_You'll never know this way_

“Wait, wait,” he pants, and I’m pleased to see he’s already flushed, his hair a mess from when I tangled my hands in it. I lean back against the counter, and raise an eyebrow at him in what I imagine is a perfect impression of him. 

I think Baz thinks so too, because he scowls at me and leans in- _oh, thank fuck_ \- but then he pulls back again.

“Pitches don’t get dumped.” he says, too loudly.

_Do you want me to_

_Follow you around_

_Everywhere in town_

“What?” I blink at him.

“I-I mean-” Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is _stuttering_ ? Over _me_? I grin, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“What I _meant,_ was that you… dumped me.” he says, more quietly. The grin slips from my face.

“Technically, _you_ were the one who stormed out and ignored my calls.” I mutter.

“What, was I supposed to come running back? Pick up and say, ‘ _Yes, Simon, I would_ love _to hear why you want to dump me. Please describe in intricate detail!_ ’?” he snaps, his arms crossed over his chest. 

He doesn’t look angry. He looks wounded.

_**Baz** _

I’m surprised I have it in me to sound mad. I’m just so _hurt_. 

Simon looks down at the floor guiltily, shuffling his feet.

“If you’d just have let me explain-”

“Is that what you came here to do? Explain?” I ask, horrified at the thought.

“No, no!” Simon bursts out, looking up at me in abject despair. Then he pauses, tilting his head to the side. “Well- partially.” he admits, looking sheepish. I shake my head, opening my mouth, but he interrupts.

_Do you want a clown_

_Why do you_

_Treat me mean and cruel_

_Breaking every rule_

_Can I be your fool_

“If you would let me just _talk,_ for once in your life, instead of making assumptions, you would understand.”

“Do you want a seat?” I ask stiffly, the host manners ingrained into me since birth kicking in. Simon looks a bit surprised, but nods.

“Yeah. Sure.” 

We make our way to the sofa, and I make sure to sit as far away from him as possible, tucking my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on top of them. It’s been a long day, I’m tired, and really do not have the energy to keep up the protective wall around myself that I should be doing.

_We can make this a happy home_

_So come back where you belong_

Simon sighs, and then shifts to face me, toeing off his shoes and crossing his legs. He has mismatched socks on.

“I- remember what we spoke about at the Watford dance?” he begins.

“Yeah,” I reply softly, glancing up at him.

“This is kinda linked to that.” he shrugs, and I straighten a little. Oh. _Oh._ I don’t think this is about me, after all.

“It’s just- when someone shows you who they are, you should believe them.” Simon says, and I frown. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m a disaster, I literally could not be a bigger mess. I’m a fuck-up, and accident, with no plans and no future. You and Pen, you always had it so figured out, you’ve always known what you were going to do- at Watford, after Watford, and for the rest of your lives. I- I’ve never known. I put it on my list of things not to think about, and, well, didn’t think about it.” he chuckles softly, but he doesn’t sound amused. More resigned.

_Oh baby_

_What can I do when I still love you_

_What can I say when I still want you_

_What can I do_

_What can I say_

_You'll never know this way_

“At Watford, the only thing that concerned me was defeating the Humdrum- and defeating you, I guess.” he smiles sheepishly, genuinely this time. I hum, the irony of it all making me smile a little too. 

He has defeated me, but not in the way either of us expected.

“I barely thought past the next day, and _definitely_ didn’t think past Watford and the Humdrum. I-I never truly thought I was going to survive it. And if I did, I always assumed the Mage would set me up with something.” We both wince.

“You were right- about everything. About the Mage, about your mother, and about me. I’m a catastrophe.” he sighs.

  
  


_Please forgive me, come back, and then_

_We can fall in love_

_Over and over and over and over again_

“Simon, I didn’t mean it, I was just hurting- it was only to cover up the fact that I loved you-” I begin protesting, but he stops me.

“I know.” he smiles softly. “But whether you meant it or not, you were right, I feel- fuck, I feel like a house after a fire.” he takes another deep breath, tangling his hands in his hair and leaning back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. He’s trying not to cry.

“This- this is what I _am._ My magic isn’t going to magically come back. There’s no more power, no more potential. There’ll be no more mystery, no more adventure.”

“Good, because I fucking hate Cluedo. Shit game.” I interrupt, and he sends me a quick grin, but doesn’t try to hide the fact that his eyes are still shining with unshed tears.

_Oh baby_

_What can I do when I still love you_

_What can I say when I still want you_

_Won't you come back_

“You fell in love with the mystery. The power, the danger, the excitement. I’ve lost all of that. What’s left to love?” he whispers, swallowing hard.

“Simon, are you saying you broke up with me- wrote about breaking up with me,” I correct myself when I see the look on his face, “because you thought _I_ was going to do it?”

“Well, I know magicians get really hung up on honour. And you promised me, so, I didn’t want you to feel bad.” he shrugs, and I nearly knock him clean off the sofa and out of the door.

“I can’t believe this.” I snort, and he looks at me, surprised. “Simon Snow, you are _not_ a house after a fire. You’re my _home_ .” I say, and he softens. “Yes, I first fell in love with the power, the potential, the magick, but I also fell in love with the kindness, the softness and the warmth that you have for the others, the bravery and selflessness you displayed and _still do_ . And when you helped me find who killed my mother, I saw a whole other depth to you. I didn’t see you as the Chosen One anymore, no longer the Golden Boy, but just as Simon Snow. My Snow. As this beautiful, scarred boy, who was capable of loving _so much_ , who had so much kindness for everyone, even me, the monster who had tormented you for years. I fell in love with who you _were_ , not what you could _do._ ”

We’re both leaning forwards, and I take his hands in mine. 

_Won't you come back_

_Won't you come back_

_What can I do, do, do, do_

_What can I do_

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.” I whisper, and he snorts. “All my life, I’ve just done whatever my family wanted, and pretended that was what I wanted too. I have this odd personality complex where I’m arrogant to the point of annoyance, but also very insecure.” Simon snorts again. “I have no idea what I want to do. Or who I am, even if it may seem like I do. All I know is that I want to muddle through the rest of my life with you. Whatever I’m doing, I’ll be happy, as long as you’re with me.” I bring his hands up and kiss them gently.

“We can figure this all out together. Grow together. Make decisions together. We can apply to uni, and I’ll stay at your flat so much I’ll practically live there, and you’ll trip over all of my books. Or we can take a holiday together, go anywhere in the world- as long as it’s not fucking America. Or you could start an apprenticeship- at a bakery, a restaurant, work with children, anything. We can focus on the stuff you like, stuff you’re good at.” I look at him earnestly.

“We have the rest of our lives left, Si. We don’t even have to make any decisions right now.” Simon sniffs, and I kiss his hands again.

“You are not damaged goods, Simon Snow. You are the centre of my universe, and every single planet that revolves around it.” Simon looks at me for a long, hard minute, and then is jumping on me, pushing me back into the sofa and kissing me roughly. 

_We can make this a happy home_

_So come back where you belong_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! finally a happy chapter! next chapter will probably be r-rated so skip that if you don't wanna read it, and then an epilogue with some more Penny cause I love her <3

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism, feedback and general thoughts, and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> go find me on tumblr  
> @fleursowl  
> and instagram  
> @fleursowl_


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